The Night of Second Chance
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Jim and Arte are more than a little baffled when, upon entering a little town called Second Chance, they find some old and previously dead enemies who have apparently received second chances. Even stranger, they remember the events leading up to their deaths completely backwards. What's going on and who is responsible for this madness?
1. Chapter 1

**The Wild Wild West**

 **The Night of Second Chance**

 **By Lucky_Ladybug**

 **Notes: The characters aren't mine and the story is! Several weeks ago I had such an awesomely fun dream depicting the strange scenario Jim and Arte happen upon in this story. I badly wanted to turn it into a fic. This was the first opening I've had to do so. It heavily involves characters from** _ **The Poisonous Posey**_ **(of course, heh) but takes place afterward. But does it take place in my established timeline? Hmm. . . .**

 **Chapter One**

"It's been a quiet week, hasn't it?"

Artemus Gordon started and looked to his friend and partner, James West. The man had been sitting by the window in their government-issue train _The Wanderer_ , just thoughtfully and silently watching the old desert towns passing by them.

It really _had_ been an unusually quiet week for the Secret Service agents—nothing too strange or off-the-wall in their casework. But Artemus frowned at the observation. "If you'll forgive me for saying so, James, that should be a good thing."

"I know." James West sounded far-away as the train began to slow. "Except when it's us, I kind of have to wonder when the other shoe is going to drop."

Artemus made a deeper face of displeasure, even as he had to admit to that logic. A normal week for them was in itself strange and off-the-wall.

"Surely you don't think anything is going to happen here," Artemus said. "A nice little town called Second Chance? We just need to wait while they make minor repairs on _The Wanderer_ and we'll be on our way again in an hour."

"Makes sense." But the quiet agent clearly wasn't convinced. "Somehow, though, I have a weird feeling about this place."

"Well, let's hope it's just nerves." Artemus patted him on the shoulder. "While the train's being repaired, why don't we see what kind of nightlife a town called Second Chance has?"

James nodded. "I was going to suggest that myself."

"Good." Artemus strolled to the door as the train drew to a halt, ignoring the glaring fact that by going out into the town, they could become caught up in whatever strangeness might be afoot. If Artemus hadn't suggested it, James would have left on his own anyway. Even though they didn't want to become involved in anything bizarre, James would feel they had a duty to find and fix it if there was anything in town to find and fix.

They both stepped off the train and onto the edge of the town's Main Street. As they headed up the wooden sidewalk, various businesses came into view—the tannery, the butcher, the funeral parlor. . . . Maybe it was the October chill, but something about those establishments sent a coldness up Artemus's spine.

He tried to focus instead on the sounds of merriment up ahead. "That must be the saloon," he noted.

"It's probably the only game in town," James agreed.

The Second Chance Saloon soon came into view. Indeed, aside from the hotel and a restaurant across the street, it was the only place of business that seemed to be currently open for patronage. They had seen many little towns just like this, late at night.

"Well, so far, so good," Artemus said. "Shall we go in, Jim?"

"Let's do it, Arte," Jim agreed. He pushed open the swinging door and stepped inside, followed closely by Arte.

The interior was unlike most saloons they had previously seen. Expansive and brightly lit, it was more like a nightclub or a casino in a large city rather than a small town's watering hole. Arte turned around, studying the chandeliers overhead, the stage and singer to his right, and the tables spread out in front of said stage. Most were filled.

"This is a saloon?!" he said in disbelief.

"Somebody sure has money," Jim remarked.

A man in purple with a large cigar and a larger scar was standing nearby, observing their entrance. When he saw them, he smirked and greeted them without recognition. "Welcome to the Second Chance Saloon, boys. What's your pleasure?"

The sight of him sent both agents spiraling into utter shock and disbelief. Jim just stared, while Arte searched for his voice and finally found it. "S-Snakes Tolliver?!" He swallowed a huge lump in his throat, but it only came back.

Snakes quirked an eyebrow. "That's right, Pal. What of it?"

Jim finally summed up their shock. "You're dead."

Snakes snarked. "Oh, I am, am I?!"

Across the hall, a door opened and a woman in a white blouse with black vest and slacks stood in the doorway, frowning in impatience. "What's going on, Snakes?"

"I don't know," Snakes drawled, tapping his cigar over a trashcan. "These two guys came in and started talking crazy. They say I'm dead."

"Oh really." The woman turned to look at them with an amused smirk.

The Secret Service agents were only further in shock now. "Lucrece Posey?!" Arte yelped.

"Yes. Don't tell me I'm supposed to be dead too." Lucrece leaned on the doorframe with one hand.

"No," Jim said slowly, "but Snakes betrayed you and you killed him."

"If we might be so bold as to ask, _what's going on here?!_ " Arte cried.

Lucrece looked completely unamused. "That's the same question I would like an answer to, gentlemen."

Arte slowly shook his head. "I think we need to go out for some fresh air."

Jim was in agreement.

Snakes just gave them a stony look. "Maybe you should."

They quickly retreated outside without stopping to question why they were being allowed to leave.

"Jim," Arte gasped, pointing at the door, "can you figure out what's going on?!"

"No, I can't," Jim returned. "We know Snakes was dead. I saw him murdered. But I can't decide what's more shocking, that he's now very much alive or that he's apparently working for Miss Posey again."

"And just what is this little operation here?" Arte exclaimed. "I can't believe it's on the level."

"Same here." Jim frowned. "But we're not likely to get any more answers from those two. Let's go see the Sheriff."

But seeing the Sheriff only brought further confusion. Relaxing behind the desk, his feet up on it, was another former Posey gang member—a formerly very dead cowboy.

"Little Pinto," Jim gawked.

The sadist of the group sat up straight, sweeping his feet to the floor. "So you've heard of me?"

"I killed you," Jim said in disbelief. "I made a makeshift spear and threw it at you."

Pinto stared at him. "You're crazy, friend."

"Okay, nevermind," Arte said as he came forward. "What's the deal with the Second Chance Saloon?!"

"Deal?" Pinto vaguely replied.

"How long has it been running, that sort of thing," Arte said.

"For several months, ever since Lucrece Posey bought it and moved in with her right-hand man Snakes Tolliver," Pinto shrugged.

"What?!" Jim cried.

"The whole gang was killed some months back, except for Snakes," Pinto said. "He was the only one loyal to Miss Posey."

"Aha, excuse me, good sir, but that tale is just completely backwards," Arte said. "Snakes was the first one killed and he was the only one _dis_ loyal to Miss Posey! But all the rest of the gang died as well. Including you, I might add."

Pinto suddenly drew his gun. "You're either the worst joker in the county or you're looking for trouble," he said, his voice dark. "Which is it?"

"Neither," Arte gulped. "We'll just take our leave of you now." He steered Jim to the door and outside.

Jim went willingly. "Arte, we have to find out what happened," he said. "Why are these people alive again and why are they remembering everything upsidedown and backwards?"

"I have a bad feeling the rest of the gang is alive again too, and they're probably scattered throughout the town," Arte sighed. "And I bet none of them will remember anything correctly!"

Jim frowned. "I wonder which one is our best bet to try talking with."

"I say Snakes," Arte said. "That coward should crack without too much difficulty."

"Alright," Jim nodded. "You try to get Snakes alone and intimidate him into talking. I'm going to look through the rest of this town."

Arte looked at him in concern. "Do you really want to do that, Jim?"

"No, but someone has to," Jim deadpanned.

"You are a brave man, Jim," Arte proclaimed.

They took their leave of each other and went in different directions. Arte sneaked back to the saloon and slipped in through a back door. When he heard familiar voices up the hall, he pressed himself against the wall to listen.

"Who were those people?" Lucrece sounded in very bad humor.

"I don't know, but they're obviously not playing with a full deck of cards," Snakes replied.

Arte peeked around the corner. Lucrece was sitting at her desk in her office, while Snakes was casually perched on the edge of said desk.

Lucrece leaned back, lacing her fingers. "Go find out what you can about them," she instructed. "I'm sure they're still in town."

"I'm on it." Snakes slid down and headed for the door.

Arte waited until Snakes drew near to his position in the hall before suddenly grabbing him from behind and clapping a hand over his mouth. "Alright, my friend," he said low. "Now you're going to tell me what this is all about, and you're going to do it now."

If he was expecting Snakes to melt in his arms out of quaking cowardice, it didn't work. Instead, the gambler shoved his still-burning cigar into the back of Arte's hand. Arte only barely restrained himself from crying out, but his grip was loosened enough that Snakes tore away from him and turned to face him.

"Just what is your problem?" Snakes demanded.

Arte clapped his other hand over his injured one. "All Jim and I want to know is how you're alive again, why Miss Posey trusts you, and why neither of you remember the past," he said through gritted teeth. "The amnesia has to be an act, but why?" He frowned. "Maybe you're not the real Snakes Tolliver."

Snakes snorted. "Then who am I?"

"An actor, another criminal, I don't know," Arte retorted. "Why don't you tell me?"

Snakes stepped closer to him and spoke under his breath. "I am the real Snakes Tolliver, Pal, and you're gonna regret crossing me."

"Oh? Do tell." Arte folded his arms. "Has it occurred to you that if Jim and I are right and you died, something very strange happened in order to bring you back to life? And the fact that you and Miss Posey don't remember the past suggests that you're pawns in someone else's sick little game. Aren't you the least bit curious as to who that could be?"

Snakes frowned. "What's to say you and West aren't just overworked and underpaid and you finally got fed-up with it? Maybe you're making up stories and trying to get old enemies to buy them."

"Aha!" Arte pointed at Snakes in decisive determination. "You said 'West'! But Jim and I never fully introduced ourselves. That proves you do remember something!"

Snakes went stiff. For the first time, actual fear went through his eyes. "I swear, I don't know why I said that," he rasped. "I don't know you, or him. I don't know what you do."

"You'll never convince me of that, Tolliver," Arte said. And yet his stomach began to knot. He couldn't deny that Snakes really did look scared. It could just be because he was afraid of Lucrece finding out he had lied, but on the other hand . . . what if it wasn't? What if he really didn't remember, at least consciously, and he couldn't understand why he had said what he had? It was strange and eerie to think about, but what if these villains were the victims in this mystery?

The light overhead suddenly caught Snakes' face. In addition to the hypertrophic S-shaped scar that had given him his nickname, an eerie, pale scar was trailing down his cheek. It hadn't even been visible before, but when he turned a certain way, it stood out.

Arte perked up. "How did you get that scar?" he demanded. "Not the big one, the other one."

Snakes' hand flew to his face. "I . . . I don't know. . . ."

"I bet if we ask Jim, he'll say that that's the exact spot where Miss Posey scratched you with her deadly poison," Arte said. "That scar is the proof we're telling the truth! You were dead, Snakes. And if you don't want it to happen again, you'll have to trust us."

Snakes panicked. "You're making it up! I've got no reason to believe that trusting you would help me! Maybe everything you're telling me is backwards. For all I know, you're the one who killed me! Or the one who brought me back and made us forget things! No, I'm not trusting you! Guards! _Guards!_ "

Arte winced. "Oh no. . . ."

In a moment, security guards came running from both ends of the hall, along with Lucrece. They started to surround the hapless Secret Service agent.

Arte was ready for them. "Think fast, gentlemen." He threw a colored smoke bomb to the floor. As pink smoke filled the hall and everyone present began to cough, he turned and fled out the back door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Jim wasn't faring much better. After separating from Arte, he had wandered down the street and decided to enter the local gymnasium. Not all small towns had one, so it seemed unique and curious enough to warrant a look.

He also thought it seemed like the ideal place to find another former Posey gang member, and in that he wasn't disappointed. Brutus the Bone-Breaker, the Scourge of the Caribbean, was inside, and punching a bag hard enough to nearly send it flying off its hook.

"Hello," Jim called, and Brutus looked up.

"Hello," Brutus returned, sounding and looking wary. "Are you new in town?"

"That's right." Jim came closer and stopped, waiting for Brutus to cease his pounding on the bag.

Brutus did, and came over to the edge of the mat. "And what is your business here, Sir? Are you looking to sign up at our gymnasium?"

"No, actually, although I might entertain the thought if we're here a long time," Jim replied. He studied the dangerous man. There was no point asking if he was remembered; he could see in Brutus's eyes that he was not. "I'm wondering what you know about Lucrece Posey," he said instead.

"Ah! A very shrewd businesswoman." Brutus smirked, clearly pleased by the thought of her. But then he frowned, quickly growing suspicious. "Why do you want to know?"

Jim held his ground. "She _is_ a wanted criminal," he said calmly.

Brutus's eyes flashed. "You're out to report or arrest her then?"

"You might say it's not out of the question," Jim said.

Without warning, Brutus's fist came flying at him. He only barely dodged it in time, and then was forced to dive and roll across the mat as Brutus continued to launch his attack.

"I will protect Miss Posey to my dying breath," Brutus snarled.

Jim leaped up, weaved to avoid another punch, and tried to kick out at him. "Funny that you're not her bodyguard," he commented.

Brutus grunted, falling back as Jim's shoes connected with his chest. "I am, when I'm not otherwise occupied." He lunged, tackling Jim to the floor. They rolled over and over across the mats, until at last Jim delivered a harsh punch that sent Brutus falling into the barbells. He scrambled up and out before the other man could recover.

Arte was just emerging from the back of the saloon, and Jim walked over to him in concern. "No luck?"

"You could say that." Arte sighed, eyeing Jim's wild hair and rumpled clothes. "Which one did you run into?"

"Brutus runs the gymnasium," Jim intoned as he smoothed his hair back into place.

Arte grimaced. "Well, that explains everything."

"He also doesn't remember meeting me before," Jim said. "But he's very protective of Miss Posey, to put it mildly. So what happened on your end?"

"Talk later, hide now!" Arte grabbed Jim by the arm and pulled him across the street and over to the livery stable. Just as they ducked inside, Snakes and the security guards burst through the saloon's back door.

"He can't have gone far!" Snakes shouted. "Spread out! Search everywhere!"

"And usually it's me who makes all the enemies in town," Jim grunted.

"Oh, you're a riot," Arte retorted.

The sound of someone humming brought both of them sharply to attention. Slowly they turned to look. A tall man with a mustache was in one of the stalls, brushing a beautiful dark horse. In his other hand he held a hefty sandwich.

"Sergei," Arte muttered. "That's just great."

"He hasn't seen us," Jim said. "We'll stay here until we either have to move or we're caught. Maybe we can overhear something that will shed some light on this mess."

"I doubt it, but what have we got to lose?" Arte sighed. "Except everything."

"Don't worry, Arte. We beat this gang once. We can do it again." Jim faded deeper into the shadows.

"Yeah, only I'm wondering who the mastermind is behind all of this," Arte said. "We have them to worry about too, most likely."

"I've been thinking about that," Jim said. "There's only one person I know of who can bring people back from the dead."

"Dr. Faustina," Arte realized.

Jim nodded. "She and her henchman Miklos have never been caught. They must have stolen the gang's bodies, experimented on them until they came back, and did something to their memories. Their previous subjects didn't remember anything of their former lives, so obviously she has some way to induce amnesia."

"That's brilliant, Jim," Arte exclaimed. "Now she must have found a way to be selective about their amnesia!"

"I think so, Arte." Jim glanced to Sergei, who was still alternately humming and eating while grooming his horse. "And apparently her experiments extend to those who never died, since Miss Posey doesn't remember the truth either. The only real question is, why is Dr. Faustina doing all of this?"

"Well, we're sure going to find out," Arte vowed. ". . . Once we can get out of here." He eyed the stable with displeasure.

xxxx

Snakes stayed behind after all the guards dispersed. His hands shaking, he dropped down on a crate near the back door and slumped forward.

"What's going on?" he whispered. "What's happening to me? Why did I start talking like I knew those people?"

He started to bring his hands up to dig into his hair, but froze. There was another scar he didn't recognize on the back of his right hand, a second hypertrophic scar. He couldn't remember where it had come from and figured he'd just as soon not remember. Now, though . . . he had to wonder . . . did he _need_ to remember?

He went sheet-white and pressed himself against the wall of the saloon, staring at that hand. No matter how hard he tried, his memory was a blank. And, in light of everything these visitors had been saying, that was utterly terrifying.

"No," he choked out. "I didn't betray Miss Posey. I wasn't dead. I wasn't _dead!_ "

"Oh, are you having an identity crisis, Mr. Tolliver?"

Snakes looked up with a jerk at the new voice. "Who's there?!"

No one was visible, but the voice continued to echo all around him. "Why, I am the one who has placed you in this town and given you a second chance to help your former boss."

"So you brought me back from the dead then?!" Snakes demanded. "Those people were right?!"

"I didn't say that. But you are becoming somewhat of a problem, Mr. Tolliver, thanks to their meddling. Voltaire?"

Snakes went stiff as the largest man he had ever seen stepped out of the shadows and reached for him. "Oh no. No. You don't wanna do this," he trembled. "You don't."

Voltaire sneered at him as his beefy hands reached to curl around Snakes' neck.

"On the contrary, Mr. Tolliver. He does."

"Too bad." Suddenly Jim was flying at Voltaire from behind, dragging him away from Snakes.

Arte ran over from another angle, seizing Snakes' arm. "You'd better come with us and not fight us," he said.

"I'll come with you," Snakes agreed. "But . . ." He turned to look back at the seemingly uneven fight between Jim and Voltaire.

"Jim will be fine," Arte said calmly. "He's fought Voltaire before. Although I must say I'm surprised to see him. And we also heard his boss before we came running out." He frowned, looking about. "Dr. Loveless must have slipped away as soon as we appeared on the scene."

"Loveless?" Snakes stared at him.

A nod. "Dr. Miguelito Loveless. We really weren't expecting him. We thought Dr. Faustina was the one behind all of this."

"Faustina. . . ." Snakes paused, a thoughtful look coming into his eyes. "I know that name. . . ."

Before Arte could question him further, the security guards came running back from various directions. Several grabbed for Arte, while others ran to help Voltaire fight Jim.

Snakes yelped, grabbing onto his hat as Arte was pulled away from him. "No, you idiots!" he cried. "Help West, not Voltaire!"

But the security guards ignored him.

Snakes swore, tossing his cigar into the dirt. "What's the matter with them?!"

Arte struggled against the ones restraining him. "I think they're answering to someone other than you!"

"Like Dr. Loveless," Jim said as he punched one and kicked another.

"Oh yeah?!" Snakes grabbed an empty barrel and threw it at a third.

Arte watched in approval as the thug crashed to the ground. "I must say, I never thought you'd be an ally, Snakes."

"I don't like being played for a sap," Snakes growled. "And nobody's gonna off me again!"

"Well, whatever your reasons, we welcome your help. Now if I could just . . ." Arte squirmed and twisted around, trying to reach his pockets, but the men holding him were tightly gripping both his arms.

Jim came up behind them and delivered a harsh karate chop to first one, then the other. Arte leaped away as they crumpled to the ground with equal groans.

"That's all of them . . . except for Voltaire," Jim frowned.

At that moment, Voltaire was creeping up on the Secret Service agent. He sneered, balling his huge hands into deadly fists.

"Look out!" Snakes yelped as Voltaire took aim. He ran forward, grabbing the giant's arm.

Voltaire snarled. As he raised his arm to try to shake Snakes off, the smaller man was lifted off the ground.

Both Jim and Arte lunged at the same time. "Let him go, Voltaire," Jim ordered.

Voltaire glowered at him and instead grabbed Snakes by the front of his jacket, pulling until he pried the gambler away from his arm. Only then did he let Snakes go, and only by throwing him several feet to crash into the crates and barrels stacked up at the back of the general store.

Arte cringed. "He's going to be feeling that in the morning."

Snakes gave one weak groan and fell limp, his arm slipping to the ground from the top of a barrel.

Jim shot an angry look to Voltaire. "What is this all about, Voltaire?" he demanded. "What is Dr. Loveless's interest in this?!"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," Voltaire retorted. "The Doctor doesn't want you to know yet." He turned with a swirl of his cape. "I was sent here to dispatch of him, but not you."

Arte glowered after Voltaire, but didn't attempt to follow him when he started off into the night. "That means Voltaire must think he killed Snakes," he realized. "We'll have to let him go, Jim. If Snakes is still alive, we need to help him."

Jim nodded. "You know, it's strange, Arte," he said as he turned to walk to where Snakes had fallen. "When Snakes joined in and helped us, I had the oddest feeling that we've all fought on the same side before."

Arte looked to him with a start. "I didn't want to say anything, Jim, but I had that same feeling. For both of us to have it . . . do you think there could be something to it?"

"How could there be?" Jim countered. "We knew about him, but you never met him and I only met him that one time. And he sure wasn't our ally then."

Arte sighed. "I know, but . . . nevermind." He shook his head. "How is he, Jim?"

Jim was just reaching him now. As he bent down to take up the limp hand and feel for a pulse, the sight of the twisted skin sent a jolt through his heart.

 _A large ship with a bomb. . . . Snakes disabled it at the cost of his own safety. . . . A smaller explosion took him out, sending him in flames to the water far below. . . ._

"Jim?"

Jim started back to the present. He was holding the badly scarred hand, but not making a move to check for a pulse.

"Jim, what is it?" Arte demanded. "Is he dead?"

Quickly Jim pressed his finger against the limp wrist. "No," he reported in relief, "just knocked out."

Arte breathed a sigh of equal relief and knelt down too, feeling across Snakes' neck and back to make sure they were not damaged. "Let's get him inside," he said. "I wonder if Miss Posey will be concerned about him at all."

Jim helped Arte lift the criminal, draping an arm over his shoulder. "With Miss Posey, it's hard to say."

Arte looked to him. "Why did you space out for a moment there, Jim?"

Jim sighed. "I don't know. It was like I had a sudden flash of memory. I saw Snakes disable a bomb on a ship and get blown up himself. I had the feeling that's how he got this scar on his hand. He didn't have it before."

Arte was stunned. "But . . . when could something like that have happened?!"

"I don't know, Arte." Jim looked at their still unconscious ally. "I just don't know. But I think we need to find out."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Lucrece was waiting at the door, staring, as Jim and Arte dragged Snakes in with them. "What happened?!" she demanded, a hand flying to her hip.

"We were accosted by a man who works for Dr. Miguelito Loveless," Jim said. "And your security guards seemed to be working for him too."

"That's ridiculous," Lucrece objected.

"They helped his henchman gang up on us," Arte said.

"And Snakes was too weak to fight them off," Lucrece said in annoyance. "I might have known."

"Actually, he did help," Jim said. He was growing somewhat annoyed as well, with Lucrece's attitude, and it showed.

"He was hurt because of helping us," Arte added, his tone clipped. "Where can we put him?"

"In my office," Lucrece said with a flippant wave. "I have a couch." She stepped aside, allowing them entry.

They carried Snakes in and laid him on the couch. As they did, his wallet fell from his pocket and to the floor.

Arte picked it up. "What's this?" For some reason he opened it, perhaps idly hoping to find some kind of clue. Instead, he found himself looking at a picture of Snakes with three people—a dark-haired teenage boy in red and black, an auburn-haired girl, and a boy slightly older than the first, wearing glasses.

Jim looked over Arte's shoulder. "Who are those people?"

Arte took the photograph out of the wallet and turned it over. "There's no names written on it," he said. "And how strange that it's in color. Color photography! What genius came up with that, and why didn't I think of it first?!"

"We'll have to ask Snakes when he wakes up," Jim said.

Lucrece came over and looked at the picture too. "I don't know any of those people," she proclaimed. "They must be friends Snakes made on his own time."

Snakes groaned, a hand going to his head as he revived. "Ow. . . ." As he came more fully awake, he started when he saw his wallet in Arte's hands. "What are you doing with that?!"

"I just picked it up when it fell," Arte said. "But can you tell us who these people are with you? And why this photograph is in color?"

Snakes took his wallet back with shaking hands. "No, I can't."

"They must be special to you," Jim said. "That's the only picture you have in your wallet."

"I know." Fear flashed through Snakes' eyes. "I don't know why I don't remember them."

Arte sighed. "We're getting ahead of ourselves. Are you alright, Snakes? You took quite a spill. Voltaire thought he'd killed you."

"I'm fine," Snakes retorted defensively.

Jim sighed. He was sure Snakes had a headache at the very least, but he was also sure Snakes would never admit to it. "Why did you jump in like that?" he asked. "I'm grateful, but puzzled."

"Me too." Snakes laid his wallet on his chest and laced his fingers on top of it. "I don't do things like that. Helping people only gets you hurt." He looked away. "Of course, helping yourself gets you hurt too," he muttered.

"You don't have any memory of trying to a stop a bomb on a ship, do you?" Jim asked.

Snakes went pale. For a moment, an emotion that was clearly recognition flashed through his eyes. But then it was gone and he turned away, facing the couch. "No!"

"Snakes, you have to stop being so defensive," Arte pleaded. "We can both clearly see that you do remember something. And earlier, you got so upset at what I was saying that you sicced the guards on me. That didn't help anything, now, did it?"

Snakes was trembling now. "If what you're saying is true, that I was dead and all, I don't want to remember it," he insisted. "I'm not gonna remember it."

"Why?" Jim asked. "You're not dead now."

"I won't remember it," Snakes stubbornly repeated.

Arte stood, walking over near the window. Frowning, Jim followed.

"Jim . . . I think it's obvious we're on the right track," Arte said low. "Snakes is experiencing definite signs of emotional trauma. Even if something made him physically forget, I think subconsciously he embraced that and he will refuse to remember no matter what we say or do."

"You mean, he's choosing not to remember," Jim said.

"To some extent, yes," Arte nodded.

Jim folded his arms. "But what could be causing such an extreme reaction?"

"Just dying alone would be more than enough to do it, honestly," Arte said. "It could also be the trauma of his boss finding he was a traitor and viciously poisoning him. And . . ." He glanced back at Snakes, who was still shaking and now had started mumbling to himself. "It could be something else as well."

Jim sighed in frustration. "But we need to know, Arte," he protested. "It looks like Snakes is the only key. Maybe Dr. Loveless too. But as long as Loveless doesn't want to tell us, he won't."

"Actually, that's odd too," Arte said. "Usually he loves to brag to you about his schemes."

"I'm sure that's still coming," Jim said.

"I've had enough of this," Lucrece interrupted. "I'm going to tell the Sheriff what's been happening here tonight. He can put out warrants for our wayward security guards and this Dr. Loveless."

That brought Snakes back to the present. _"NO!"_ he shrieked. "Not the Sheriff!"

Lucrece stormed over to him, eyes flashing. "Snakes, I won't have this," she snapped. "There is no reason for you to be so vehemently opposed to the Sheriff. I don't know why you've never liked him."

Snakes sat up. "I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to see him at all!"

Lucrece raised a hand, most likely to slap Snakes in an attempt to shock him back to his senses. Snakes cowered, while at the same time reaching to grab her wrist and hold it away from him.

"He remembers," Jim whispered in surprise. "Even if only subconsciously, he remembers."

Arte nodded. "The mind is an extremely powerful force that we're only just starting to understand." He frowned. "But I don't understand this aversion to Little Pinto either."

"Me either, Arte," Jim said. "Pinto did restrain Snakes while Miss Posey was killing him, but it sounds like Snakes is more afraid of him than Miss Posey. We're missing a piece somewhere."

Lucrece finally pulled herself away from Snakes and stormed away, eyes flashing. "I've never seen him like this! But he certainly isn't an efficient businessman or any kind of man in this condition. I have more than half a mind to fire him on the spot."

"Not that getting away from you wouldn't be a good idea, but under the circumstances I'd say it's uncalled-for," Jim said. Anger tinged his voice now.

Arte was in agreement. "The man's hurt, both physically and emotionally."

Lucrece's lip curled. "Are you sure it isn't mentally?" She stormed out.

Snakes groaned and slumped forward, digging his hands into his hair. "I've really done it now," he muttered. "I don't know what's wrong with me." He shuddered.

"Something terrible happened to you, Snakes," Jim said. "Now you don't want to remember it even if you could."

"And unfortunately, somehow we really need to know," Arte sighed.

Before Snakes could reply, the sounds of a definite fight echoed from outside. Immediately Jim and Arte ran for the door and threw it open. Two gunshots rang out and then Voltaire lumbered into their view.

"Jim, he's bleeding," Arte said in surprise.

"Only he's not feeling it," Jim blinked. He looked to the ground. "And he's also not cleaning it up."

"Ah!" Arte started to smile.

"I'll follow him, Arte, while you find out what he's been causing," Jim directed.

"With pleasure!" Arte slipped off in the direction Voltaire had come from, while Jim hid in the shadows and began to follow the trail of blood.

It didn't take Arte long to discover the chaos. Lucrece had run over to the Sheriff's office, where Little Pinto was leaning on the side of the building, still holding his gun in one trembling hand while clearly experiencing difficulty with his other arm. It hung limply at his side.

"Pinto!" Lucrece exclaimed. Her normally cold persona had dropped; she was clearly frantic about the man's possible injuries.

He slowly straightened, replacing the gun in its holster. "I'm alright," he said.

"Are you sure?" Arte frowned, pushing back his shock at Lucrece's reaction. "Your arm. . . ."

"That big lug threw me into a wall," Pinto said. "But he'll regret it. I left two bullets in him."

"Did he say why he was attacking you?" Arte asked.

"Yeah, he did." Pinto's eyes darkened. "He said he was out to off me and several other people in town. But when I asked why, he just said 'Doctor's orders.'"

Arte rocked back in bewilderment. "The others are probably the rest of the gang," he mused. "Why would Dr. Loveless want to kill all of them?"

Pinto glowered at him. "You're still going on about that gang stuff?"

Arte sighed. "It's the truth, whether you're ready to believe it or not." He hesitated. "But do you know any reason why Snakes Tolliver would especially be terrified of you?"

"No," Pinto grunted, "aside from the fact that we just don't like each other. He's an idiot."

Lucrece gave a dark smirk. "After his behavior in my office, I can't say I disagree." Then she was serious again. "You should have that arm looked at."

"It's just bruised." Pinto started to move it, wincing as he did.

Arte frowned at them both. "I never thought I'd be standing up for the likes of Snakes Tolliver, but the fact of the matter is, he's not an idiot. He's honestly terrified about something he can't and won't remember, and you seem to be right at the heart of this terror." He looked to Pinto, who just sneered.

"If he's terrified of anything concerning me, then I'm doing my job." He turned to head back inside. "I've told Lucrece she should hire somebody else, that he's just too unreliable when the going gets tough, but she keeps him on."

"I might not after tonight," Lucrece said.

Arte had also never thought in his wildest dreams that he would be getting so angry over anyone thinking unkindly of Snakes, but after all that had happened in the last hour, he knew their attitudes towards him were unfair.

"Just what makes you think he's unreliable?" he snapped at Pinto.

"Oh, because I can scare him just by looking at him funny," Pinto sneered, rubbing his arm as he cast a glance at Arte over his shoulder. "It's hilarious. His knees get knockin' and he stammers and stutters, and then he tries to pretend none of it happened!"

Arte's lip curled. "Well, let me tell the both of you something," he snarled. "That scared, _unreliable_ man nearly got himself killed trying to protect Jim from that hulking giant that just got through attacking our _good_ Sheriff! I never would have thought it of him, but he's obviously dependable in a crisis."

Lucrece didn't look impressed. "You also said something about Snakes betraying me and my killing him," she flatly reminded him, "and you're convinced it's a truth we've forgotten. After seeing his meltdown tonight, I really wonder how far I can trust him."

"He needs help and understanding, not rejection!" Arte exclaimed.

Lucrece didn't answer. Instead, she just walked inside with Pinto.

Arte blew out his breath in frustration. But, knowing he wasn't about to get any further answers, he turned to head back to the club.

Actually, Snakes shouldn't have been left alone, he realized in chagrin. Jim would be there to protect him if Voltaire tried to attack him again, but maybe the security guards would return and try to hurt him.

Arte increased his speed, praying that there wasn't another disaster waiting inside.

xxxx

Jim had followed Voltaire to the edge of the residential area by now. The brute finally reached an apparently deserted mansion and climbed the rickety steps to a porch that looked like it would cave under him at any moment. Instead, by some miracle it held, and Voltaire slipped through a creaking door.

Jim silently crept up to a side window and rose just enough to peer through the dirty glass. The interior, in sharp contrast to the outside, was beautiful. Dr. Loveless was pacing on a red carpet, surrounded by expensive upholstered furniture. When Voltaire came in, he looked up with a start. "Well?"

"I killed the coward like you wanted, Doctor," Voltaire said. "But West and Gordon are still snooping."

"Not only that, you've led one of them right here," Dr. Loveless said in annoyance.

Voltaire looked honestly confused. "What?"

"Your arm, you nitwit!" Loveless cried. "You've left a trail of blood all along your way, and now you're about to drip on the carpet!"

"Oh." Voltaire looked down at his arm. "I didn't even notice."

"Obviously!" Loveless turned, facing the window. Jim was no longer in sight, but that didn't matter. "Welcome, Mr. West." He sneered. "I of course have been expecting you, just not quite like this."

Jim rose and pushed up the window. "Dr. Loveless, what's going on?" he demanded.

"Why, it's all very simple," Loveless giggled. "Come in and we'll talk about it."

Jim climbed inside but didn't bother to close the window after him. "What's the deal with the gang, Loveless? Why don't they remember things the way they really happened?"

"It's all thanks to a drug I discovered," Loveless declared.

"Did you bring them back to life too?" Jim demanded.

"Oh, good heavens, no," Loveless frowned. "I merely altered their memories and brought them here. You see, Mr. West, it's completely unnatural for them to be alive again and to have a second chance to cause havoc."

"Maybe they'll change their ways," Jim retorted. "I've seen there's more to Snakes than I thought."

Loveless's face contorted in disgust. "No! They're all bad and they should have stayed dead!" He sneered. "I'm going to see that they return to it."

Jim stared. "You're going to kill them all?!"

Loveless's eyes gleamed. "Yes! And if you and Mr. Gordon interfere, I'll have to eliminate both of you as well!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

When Arte made it back to the nightclub, he found Snakes thankfully alright, but engaged in a heated argument with Gallito in the main room.

"What do you think you're doing, bringing your spiders in here?!" Snakes spat.

Gallito was currently holding a small cage in which one such spider was all too visible. He held it up, silently taunting Snakes with it as he spoke. "Oh, but my spiders are harmless unless I set them loose on someone, amigo," he said coolly and smoothly. He shoved the cage in Snakes' face to emphasize his point.

Snakes flinched but held his ground. "How are we gonna build up a decent reputation if people do things like this? Most civilized people don't wanna eat if they can look over and see a giant life-threatening spider! Even if it wasn't a danger, it's not appetizing in the least!"

Gallito's lip curled. "That is only your opinion, Señor Tolliver," he retorted. "I find my spiders very beautiful."

"You would," Snakes snapped. "But if you won't take my word on not having them around, wait and talk to Miss Posey when she comes back."

"I will do that," Gallito replied. He turned and left with a flourish, paying Arte no attention whatsoever.

Arte gawked after him, then looked to Snakes. "Well, I would say you handled that situation quite professionally," he commented.

"Only with my luck, Miss Posey will side with him," Snakes grumbled.

"Let's hope not," Arte said. "I happen to agree with you."

Snakes sighed. "What's happening out there, anyway?"

Arte sobered. "Voltaire went after Little Pinto," he reported.

Snakes leaned on the bar. "Hurt him bad?"

"I don't think so," Arte said, "but Miss Posey seemed very worried."

"She would be," Snakes grumbled. "She likes that jerk."

Arte blinked. "That . . . what?"

"Eh?" Snakes blinked too. "What'd I say?"

"You called Little Pinto a 'jerk,'" Arte said. "I don't believe I've ever heard that term before."

"Oh." Snakes shrugged. "I wonder why I said that. It must mean something like a cad or a creep, because that's what he is."

"Not that I disagree, but why are you so adamant about him?" Arte wondered.

"I can just feel it in his whole attitude," Snakes said. "I can't stand being around him." He shuddered. "Miss Posey thinks I'm crazy, but I'm not."

"I don't think you're crazy," Arte mused. "There's definitely more going on here than meets the eye. I just wish I knew what!"

Snakes brought a hand to his head. "Thinking about it just makes my head hurt worse." He went to a water dispenser in the corner and filled a cup.

Arte wandered over with him. "Now that's a very handy device," he blinked.

"Yeah," Snakes nodded. "Some lady delivered it. She said her boss makes them. Every business in town has one."

"Oh?" Arte studied the strange invention. "Any names?"

A shrug. "The girl is named Antoinette, I think," Snakes said.

"Dr. Loveless's girl!" Arte exclaimed. "Then there must be something wrong with this device somewhere!"

Snakes jumped. "Huh?! I don't get it! Why does this doctor have it in for us? And what could be wrong with a water machine?!"

"It could be injecting a secret ingredient into the water that's causing everyone to forget things that happened," Arte said. "Coming to think of it . . . oh no. . . ." A sickened look spread over his features. "I think we have this same logo on our water canteens! We were sent new ones along with some other supplies!"

Snakes stared at him. "So what does that mean?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to have this water tested!" Arte declared. He filled a cup of his own. "I'll be on our train."

"Okay," Snakes said slowly.

Arte cringed when he hurried outside and spotted Cyril the Firebug standing in the middle of the road, lighting matches, and watching with crazed delight as the flames danced through the night. At his feet was a small pile of already-used matches. Since he wasn't currently causing any danger, Arte opted to ignore him for now. The most important thing was to find out what was in the water, and what to do to reverse it. Now that he realized he and Jim had drunk water from canteens made by the same brand as the water dispenser, a nagging thought was taking hold of him.

Could they have forgotten things too? What if they were also pawns in Loveless's game and they didn't even know it?

xxxx

Jim was sickened by Dr. Loveless's announcement.

"You've gone through all of this just with the intent of killing off the entire gang?" he demanded. "Why? I mean, you could have just arranged accidents for all of them without setting up an entire town for them to be in."

"But it's so much more fun this way," Loveless giggled. "Watching them go about their business all over town and not even remembering key things about themselves and their relationships. . . . How else could I see Miss Posey and Snakes Tolliver peacefully working together? And even though they don't remember, somewhere in their minds they still do. Snakes is terrified of Little Pinto, for instance."

"Do you know why?" Jim asked.

"Oh, of course I know why, Mr. West," Loveless said. "And so do you."

"What?!" Jim stiffened. "What are you saying, Doctor?"

"I couldn't very well have my little party without you and Mr. Gordon," Loveless crowed. "You were both part of my plan from the start."

"Then . . . we've forgotten things too," Jim realized in horror. "You gave us the drug somehow!"

"Very good, Mr. West," Loveless smiled. "And now that you're here and you've figured that out, I'm afraid we can't let you leave to tell Mr. Gordon and everyone else."

Voltaire sneered, lumbering closer to Jim.

Jim held his ground. "You're going to kill me right now?"

"Oh, of course not," Loveless retorted. "You know I like to give you a sporting chance, after all we've been through together. But . . ." He grinned. "I _am_ going to make you forget what you just learned."

Voltaire punched Jim hard without warning. Jim fell back to the floor.

"Of course, when you wake up, you'll be in one of my clever deathtraps," Loveless smiled. "Let's see whether you can get out of it."

Voltaire picked Jim up with one arm and tossed him over his shoulder.

"And with all that blood on the ground, Mr. Gordon will no doubt find us before long," Loveless scowled. "We'll have to move faster than I had originally planned. Oh well." He smiled. "This little town will be going out with a bang. And just in case anyone possibly escapes, we'll have framed the Posey gang's explosions expert for the crime."

Voltaire grinned in sick delight.

xxxx

There were few things Arte enjoyed as much as working in the lab. Coming up with new inventions was one of his passions, and as he was unraveling the mysteries of the water, he was becoming more and more fascinated and enthused. Once he pinpointed the foreign ingredient and what it did and how, he could start developing a cure.

It was certainly a disturbing addition to the drinking water—a drug that literally blocked certain memories. But there had to be more to it; after all, memories hadn't just been blocked, they had been changed. If the drug hadn't altered memories, perhaps something else had caused that, such as a post-hypnotic suggestion. Yes . . . that had to be it. The drug put its victims into a state of susceptibility, enabling someone to tell them other ways of looking at something . . . remembering something. . . . It was a very dangerous creation. No doubt Dr. Loveless had invented it, but why?

Arte's thoughts wandered, but promptly snapped to as he started isolating what had been slipped into the water. It was fascinating and disturbing all at once. It had similarities with other mind-altering drugs Arte had encountered in the lab, but it was different too. Of course, what else could be expected from Dr. Miguelito Loveless?

With some unfamiliar properties, Arte couldn't be sure he was making the right antidote. It might only work in part, although even that would be an improvement. He would have to test it on himself to be sure. He dropped the finished product into a glass of fresh water, untainted by the canteens, and picked it up, hesitating with a grimace. What was it he and Jim didn't remember? Why were they part of this sick little scheme, and how had it began? There was only one way to find out.

There wasn't any particular change at first, save for a rather nasty aftertaste. But then, slowly, it was like a curtain being pulled away from part of Arte's mind. He recollected why Snakes and the other gang members were alive. He knew about the incident with Snakes and the bomb on a ship. He remembered why Snakes had a color photograph.

He still couldn't bring to mind why he and Jim had been taken, or why Dr. Loveless was doing all of this, but those memories would surely unlock in time, as well as others. Right now he remembered enough to press forward. He took up several doses of his antidote, as well as more fresh water, and rushed out the door. It was unlikely that most of the gang would listen to him, but maybe there was one who would.

xxxx

Snakes was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, when Arte finally burst back into the club. "Snakes!"

The Southerner jumped, spilling liquor across the counter. "What?!"

"I've got it!" Arte's eyes gleamed. "I isolated the drug in the water _and_ I've made an antidote! Of course, it won't restore memories all at once, but little by little I'm getting things back." He held out a glass. "You take it in untainted water."

Snakes shrank back. "I don't want to remember being dead. I told you that."

"I know, but then there's all the rest, Snakes." Arte looked pleadingly into the man's eyes. "You can't have the good without the bad, and I'm remembering a lot of good. So many things happened after Dr. Faustina brought you and the others back to life. You became our friend, and you've made other friends, like those people in the photograph. I know you would want to remember them."

"But . . ." Snakes trembled. "Then I'll remember Little Pinto . . . and what he did. . . ."

"You'll remember anyway if you stop drinking the tainted water," Arte said quietly. "This just speeds the process up a bit. And Snakes, I may need your help."

Snakes snorted. "You need _my_ help? Oh brother, are you desperate."

"You know the town," Arte persisted. "You know where everything is, and I may need to move fast. Jim still isn't back, so there's a good chance he's been taken prisoner by Dr. Loveless. I'm going to follow the blood on the ground and find him."

"So then you already know how to get to him," Snakes said. "What could I do?"

"Like I said, you could tell me more about the town," Arte said. "Or I might need back-up when I find Jim."

Snakes folded his arms. "You guys have always managed pretty well on your own."

Arte smiled a bit. "True, but sometimes we just barely get out of messes. A friend couldn't hurt. But if you don't want to, that's fine." He set the glass down. "I'll leave this here for you."

Snakes gave it a wary look. "You have no way of knowing I'll drink that, or that whether I do or not, I'll help you."

"No, but you _have_ helped us," Arte said. "I think you will again." With that he turned to leave.

Snakes watched him go, then looked back to the glass on the counter. It was so tempting to just ignore it. But for some reason, he really didn't want Arte or Jim to be hurt. He didn't have to drink it to help them. If he did, though, maybe he would unlock a part of himself that would be important to remember during whatever fight they'd be up against.

He shuddered. "I'm not a fighter. . . ."

The scar on his hand caught his eye and he looked down at it. He _was_ a fighter in some way, wasn't he? He had never given up, no matter how many odds were against him. He had been beat down by life again and again, but he had always got back up and insisted on continuing to try. Lying down and quitting was never an option.

He reached for the glass.

xxxx

Jim wasn't sure what kind of condition he would awaken in, but he wasn't quite expecting to find himself hanging upsidedown in what appeared to be a giant tank filling with water. He was alone in the room, but Dr. Loveless was no doubt nearby, watching this new struggle for life unfold.

Fear flashed through Jim's eyes. He had to work fast. His hands weren't restrained, so he quickly opened his belt buckle and removed two grenade pellets. The water was steadily pouring in; already it was almost to his head. In desperation he threw one pellet at the side of the tank. The glass shattered, and water gushed out onto the wooden floor.

The second pellet he lobbed at the ceiling of the tank. He turned away, shielding his face with his hands as the second explosion took out a chunk of the ceiling and the chain restraining him. He crashed to the floor but was instantly up, unwrapping the remainder of the chain and tossing it aside.

"Bravo, Mr. West."

Jim looked up with a start. Loveless's voice was coming through some sort of speaker above him.

"I knew you would escape my little device."

"Now what?" Jim retorted. "I still don't understand your plan, Loveless. Except that you must have put more of your drug in that water and hoped that I would swallow enough to forget certain things."

"You always have been good at figuring things out," Loveless sneered. "Yes, that was the plan, but you've spoiled it."

"I still think there has to be more to what you're doing than just wanting to kill off all the gang members because you don't think they deserve a second chance," Jim said. "What if . . . let's say you have something against the person who brought them back, and you want to deal a serious blow to that person?"

"Sabotaging a fellow scientist?" Loveless scoffed. "Why, Mr. West, you know I don't go in for petty things like that."

"You might, if said scientist had done something that offended you and your twisted set of morals," Jim replied.

"And you think Dr. Faustina did such a thing?"

"Yes, by experimenting with things you believe shouldn't be done," Jim said. "You're repulsed by her ideas of reviving dead criminals."

"She dares to call herself a scientist?!" Loveless finally screeched. "Or to possibly think she's on the same level as myself, or better?!"

"Ah, so that's it," Jim said. "She contacted you and made some comment to that effect. So of course, you had to get back at her somehow. And what better way than by destroying her prize experiments?"

"Not just destroying them, Mr. West," Loveless replied, "but by also showing how to alter their memories more intricately than she did with her earliest experiments! In that way I establish myself as the greatest scientist!"

"I must admit that's impressive," Jim said, knowing he needed to tread cautiously now that Loveless was losing his composure.

"Of course it is! And I won't allow you to ruin my plans! When this town goes up, you're going with it!"

Alarm stabbed into Jim's veins. _Loveless was blowing up the town?!_ "And just how long do we have before that happens?"

"I won't tell you exactly," Loveless said, "but it's less than an hour. And I've set it up so that Snakes will take the blame for the explosion!"

"Why Snakes?" Jim frowned. "I'll admit that with his background as an explosions expert he's a logical choice, but I'm sure this is about more than that. What is it you have against him so much more than the others?"

"He betrayed his employer," Loveless snapped. "What could be more dishonorable than that?"

"He doesn't deserve a chance to change his ways?"

"People like him never change their ways, Mr. West!" Loveless ranted.

"And neither do people like you, Doctor," Arte suddenly cried as he appeared in the doorway.

For a moment there was silence. Then, "I was wondering when you would come, Mr. Gordon. I was expecting you long before now."

"I had a few things to take care of first." Arte held a glass out to Jim. "Here, Jim."

Jim regarded it in surprise. "What's this?"

Arte smirked. "My antidote to Dr. Loveless's mind-altering drug. It will restore your memories more and more over the next hours."

Jim smirked too. "Good." He started to drink.

A panel opened up in the wall and Dr. Loveless emerged, flanked by Voltaire. "Ohh . . . you both think you're so smart, don't you?!" he ranted. "Well, I say it's time you were both taught another important lesson about meddling in my affairs."

Voltaire gave them a cruel sneer, eager to start the physical torment. Behind him came the security guards, all of them ready for Round Two of the fight . . . and all of them prepared to win this time.

Arte swallowed hard. "Somehow I think we're in for it."

Jim didn't disagree.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: Thanks for reading this little venture! I tried to make it not too confusing for anyone unfamiliar with my timeline, as I really wanted to set this story within it and doing so was kind of critical for making it work. If anyone wants to know more of the details of said timeline, the events spoken of are from my trilogy which consists of** _ **The Night of the Lazarus, The Night of the Time Travel, and The Night of the Deadly Codename. The Night of the Airship**_ **and the at-the-moment unfinished** _ **The Night of the Magician**_ **also important to the extent of showing some of the friendship that developed with Snakes, Jim, and Arte. And the mysterious photograph . . . well, that's a little harder to explain, as it references some friends Snakes made in a story for another show altogether! (Snakes pops up in stories for other shows sometimes.)**

 **Chapter Five**

The door opened again just as all of Jim and Arte's enemies were closing in for the attack. "Hey," Snakes greeted. "Need some help?"

Arte's eyes lit up. "Do we! Every ally helps!"

"Well," Lucrece said coolly as she came up behind Snakes, "just this once, we'll help you."

Now everyone was startled. All of the gang was appearing now, surrounding Lucrece. Every one of them looked furious.

"What is this?!" Loveless shrieked.

"Yes, Snakes," Arte said in surprise. "How did you manage to get them all to listen to you?"

"I didn't," Snakes said. "I gave the antidote you left me to Miss Posey, and once she started to remember, she got everyone else to join in."

Jim nodded in approval. "Smart thinking."

Lucrece nodded. "I don't appreciate what you did to us, Dr. Loveless. Now, I'm afraid you'll have to pay."

Loveless was fuming. "Get them!" he screamed. "Get them all!"

And the fight ensued. But Loveless's men were no match for an angry Posey gang, Snakes, and two Secret Service agents. Loveless was finally forced to quietly retreat while Voltaire and the security guards were subdued.

Pinto sneered with pleasure as he finally lassoed the enemy group. "There."

Cyril grinned wildly. "Maybe we set them on fire now?"

All of the prisoners cowered in terror. They knew it wasn't just a bluff.

Jim cringed. "We need them alive to question."

"Fire may loosen their tongues," Cyril replied.

"No," Jim insisted.

"You are no fun," Cyril scowled.

The prisoners relaxed.

"We need to know where that bomb is located," Jim said sternly to them. "If you don't tell us and it goes off, you'll die too."

"Bomb?!" Snakes shrieked.

Jim gave a grim nod. "The whole town is set to blow up in less than an hour, according to Dr. Loveless. And he plans to blame you for it!"

Snakes went sheet-white. "What the heck for?!"

"Probably because you're good for it, Snakes," Arte said grimly.

"We also need to make sure Dr. Loveless doesn't escape with any of his drug or the formula for it," Jim said. "I'm still sure this is about more than just killing off criminals or showing up a scientist who offended him. I think he's testing his drug small-scale before launching a much wider usage of it."

Arte looked to him with a start. "What makes you think so, Jim?"

"Easy. Arte, haven't you stopped to think that he could use that drug to take over the country?" Jim's eyes flashed with worry. "He could poison water supplies all over the United States and make people believe he's the rightful leader."

Now Arte's eyes widened in his horror. "My gosh, you're right!" He looked around in desperation. "Where could he have gone?!"

"Probably out of the town, if the bombs are already set," Jim said. "If not, then he still has to do that."

"One bomb couldn't destroy the town," Snakes objected. "There'd have to be several, all connected with a master control. Either that or several all timed to go off at once."

"And you and I had better start out finding them and disabling them," Arte said, grabbing Snakes by the arm. "These people aren't talking and we can't waste time trying to make them."

Jim nodded. "I'll go after Loveless."

"We'll spread out and search for the bombs as well," Lucrece said.

"Fine, but don't try disabling them yourselves unless you know how," Arte hurriedly told them. "You might instead blow us all to Kingdom Come!"

Pinto's lip curled. "Are you sure we can trust him?" He looked to Snakes.

"Hey, I'm not gonna risk my own life if I can help it," Snakes retorted.

"And he's not the same person who tried to murder your boss," Arte said. "I trust him."

"Let us hope it is not a foolish trust," Sergei grunted through a mouthful of sandwich.

xxxx

The search through the town was tense and worrisome. Arte found one bomb before long and disabled it, while Snakes found a second and did likewise, but there were no doubt others and so far, there hadn't been any luck in finding them. There was no sign of Loveless either, which was another factor of great concern.

Jim was sure that if Loveless was still in town, he was with one of the bombs, perhaps trying to make it foolproof so it couldn't be stopped. To that end he was heading for the center of town, where he imagined the most powerful bomb would be placed.

It wasn't a surprise to discover that a clock tower was in the center of town, but it did bring back memories. His first encounter with Loveless had ended in such a place. He hurried in and found Loveless just standing and staring up into the mass of gears, seeming eerily triumphant.

"It's no good, Loveless," Jim called as he walked in. "You're trying to erase all traces of your experiment here, but I've already figured out what its real purpose was."

"Yes, we already talked about that," Loveless said in irritation without looking up.

"Now that you know it can work, you're planning to use this method to take over the country," Jim said. "You'll make everyone believe you are the rightful leader."

"Well, I should be," Loveless huffed. "And I would say this experiment has been a complete success. Or it would have been, without Mr. Gordon's interference. But at least, thanks to him I can work out the bugs in my plan so that it will be absolutely foolproof when I enact it on a far wider scale!"

"You'll never enact it on a wider scale," Jim said.

"That's right." Snakes was standing in the doorway now. "I don't appreciate you trying to frame me for the town blowing up. Me and Gordon disabled all the other bombs; now we're here to take this one."

"And of course, to get your drug formula from you," Arte said.

"Well, you never will!" Loveless shrieked. "Never!" He turned, running towards the gears of the clock.

Jim grabbed him. "We are not going to go through that again."

"Let me go!" Loveless screamed, kicking and struggling against Jim's grasp. "West . . . !"

Arte approached. "Oh, may I?" He reached into the mad scientist's coat, soon pulling out a folded piece of paper. As he unfolded and read through it, his eyes glinted. "This is it!"

Loveless sneered at him. "And how do you know I didn't already memorize the formula? Or that this isn't just a decoy and not the genuine article?"

"Well, we're just going to have to take the chance that you didn't memorize it," Arte said. "I analyzed your drug, so I know this _is_ the right formula."

"And this time, Loveless, you're not getting away," Jim intoned.

Loveless suddenly grinned. "Maybe not, but none of the rest of you will either!"

Arte stiffened. "Oh no."

Snakes was already running over to the gears and frantically starting to climb. "The bomb's gotta be up here!" he called.

Jim gave Loveless a death glare. "Just how long have we got before that bomb goes off?"

"Hmm." Loveless looked up at the back of the clock face. "I would say, no more than five minutes."

Arte walked over to the gears as well and looked up. "Have you found it, Snakes?"

Snakes was scrambling to the top right then and easing off onto a small ledge. "It's all hooked up to the gears," he exclaimed. "When they move to bring the clock to the next hour, the bomb'll go off too!"

"Well, that's just great," Arte said, his expression twisting in disgust. "Can you disable the bomb?"

Silence. "I'll try. And I'll have to do it on my own; this ledge won't hold another person."

Arte sighed. "Good luck, Snakes." He prayed it wouldn't be a repeat of the incident on the ship that he was now remembering. Snakes' fate might not be as kind a second time.

It was a tense five minutes as Snakes desperately worked to unhook every wire that had been attached to the various gears. Most of the rest of the Posey gang found their way into the tower as well, and they were alarmed at what they found.

"The bomb is up there?!" Lucrece exclaimed as she craned her neck back and stared. "I can see Snakes' hands shaking from here!"

"He'll make it," Arte said.

"He won't make it," Loveless giggled.

"If we all die again and it's his fault . . ." Pinto growled.

Arte shot him an angry look. "It's not Snakes' fault if Dr. Loveless made it too intricate to be stopped in five minutes."

"Now there are only ten seconds," Loveless crowed. "Well, Mr. West, did you ever think we would die together?"

"No, and I'm not going to think it now," Jim retorted.

The last wire dropped with only two seconds to spare. Snakes fell back, still stiff, still half-expecting it to go off. When it didn't, he finally exhaled and relaxed. "It's okay," he said. "We're okay."

Arte smiled. "Yes, Snakes, we're all okay. Thanks to you, I might add." He gave the other gang members a pointed look. Most of them quickly looked away.

"And now Dr. Loveless is going to experience the pokey again," Jim said.

Loveless just smirked at him. "Let's wait and see, Mr. West. I may yet surprise you."

"Loveless, the day when you don't surprise me is a day when I'll be scared," Jim retorted.

xxxx

Soon Dr. Loveless and his gang had been loaded on _The Wanderer_ , which was now fully repaired and ready to leave the strange town. Jim and Arte stood on the platform with the Posey gang, not entirely sure what to do with them. They weren't sure what to do either.

"What now?" Lucrece asked. "Are we under arrest as well?"

"Well," Arte sighed, "there aren't current warrants out on any of you, thanks to your help with saving the world during the time we're all still trying to fully remember. I do remember that much."

Jim nodded. "If you can all stay out of trouble, there's not much we can do about any of you right now."

"Good." Lucrece looked to Arte. "About how long do you estimate before all our memories return?"

Arte looked back. "Well, since you had the antidote, your memories should return sooner than the others'. My memories are still coming back as well, so it could be a couple of hours total. Maybe a day or more for the rest. Of course, I could make up more of the antidote."

Snakes shook his head. "I think I'll just let my memories come back naturally as the drug wears off. I remember some things right now, like how Dr. Faustina brought us back and blew a hole in the space-time continuum doing so." He looked down at his hand. "And I remember that we got sent into the future and that's where that thing about the bomb on the ship happened. I mostly live in that future, trying to be honest and working at a casino." He frowned. "Loveless must have grabbed me when I came back here for a visit."

Arte nodded. "I'm afraid so. I sealed off the portal so he can't go through again, like he did once. It takes a special key to pass through now."

Snakes flinched. "I hope I have it. . . ." He started searching through his pockets. When he pulled out a strange, key-shaped object, Arte relaxed.

"That's it."

"Well, as entertaining as all this is, I'm going back to the Sheriff's office for now," Pinto smirked. "There won't be any other time that I can say I've been an officer of the law." He laughed.

Lucrece had to smirk too. "It is amusing, isn't it."

"Of course, this isn't a real town," Arte reminded him. "We're the only ones in it."

"I know," Pinto shrugged.

"And you'd better not stay in it," Jim said flatly. "At least not in this capacity. If we find out you've been impersonating a sheriff . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Pinto said in irritation.

Cyril looked back to the dazed security guards and Voltaire. "I still wish I could set them on fire."

"Absolutely not," Arte retorted.

One by one the gang members began to file away. Soon it was just Jim, Arte, and Snakes.

"Well, Snakes," Arte said, "I hope your little stint of working for Miss Posey again won't make you want to return to crime."

"No thanks," Snakes shot back. "I've been doing pretty well at being honest. I want to stick with that, if I can." He frowned. "I hope she won't try to recruit me again."

"She's probably glad to let you go," Jim said. "I'm remembering that you had a pretty bad feud after you were all brought back. You were terrified they were going to kill you again, so you tried to kill them first."

"That doesn't sound fun to remember," Snakes cringed. "They must've really come down on me."

"I think it was the ship bomb incident that made them decide to leave you alone," Arte said. "As long as you left them alone. By that point, you wanted to." He hesitated. "Do you remember yet about Pinto?"

"No, and I'm dreading that," Snakes frowned.

Arte sighed. He remembered now—Snakes had told him that Pinto had repeatedly tortured and brutalized him during the time when they had been dead. Since a spirit couldn't die anymore, the torture could go endlessly, and Pinto had delighted in that over and over again.

"You know, don't you?" Snakes said.

"Yes," Arte admitted. "I could tell you, or you could wait until your memories come back."

"I'll take my chances and wait," Snakes said.

Arte gave him a sad smile. "When you do remember, just remember too that it's over now. You're safe now; Pinto won't hurt you again."

"I'll try," Snakes said. "Oh . . . and I'm sorry about burning you earlier."

"Eh. No problem." Arte dismissively waved a hand. "I'm sorry for grabbing you like that and scaring you into burning me. But neither of us remembered then what we're remembering now. It's amazing what a difference memories can make."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Memories make up a lot of who we are and how we behave. Although it's interesting to see what was still subconsciously remembered even when we didn't consciously remember anything."

"Memories are a very powerful force," Arte said.

"No kidding. But meanwhile, what are you gonna do with these guys?" Snakes looked to the captured enemies.

"Get them on the train and out of here," Arte said. "And I suppose you'll want to return home as soon as possible."

"Yeah, before something else goes wrong," Snakes said. "But if you want me to help you, maybe I can do something."

"I think we can manage from here, Snakes," Arte said.

Jim nodded. "We'll give you a lift to the portal, if it's on our way."

"Thanks," Snakes said in relief.

They all headed inside, relieved that all was getting back to normal. And once they were on the road again, they would soon discover that something else was normal—Dr. Loveless had quietly escaped from the train. His recent plans had thankfully been thwarted, but there would certainly be more in the future.

At least, though, they hoped, there would be more good things in the future as well.


End file.
